


When You Made It

by Spaghettoi



Series: unholy faces (don't bother to replace them) [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drabble, Gen, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaghettoi/pseuds/Spaghettoi
Summary: There is blood on the earth and it's the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.ORThanos gets as good as he gave.





	When You Made It

Thor whirls onto the Wakandan battlefield with a hum of electricity and a fire in his eye. The warriors, the remains of a team and the collectives enemy & army, each stop in equal amazement as the thrumming deepens and lightning cracks the sky open.

Beasts, ravaging and awful, with gaping jaws and glaring, slimy teeth, go flying as the God wields his weapons as neither side has seen before. As though peace is something he does not know. There is regret, there; mourning, and loss, and deep, deep anguish.

But beyond them is a deep rooted burning coal of fury. And it blocks out everything else as though they were never even there. An afterthought.

Though a sense of nostalgia lingers, the fighting action, the persistence, the pure grit and vengefulness that Thor's channeled into his movements blurs the memories. 

They've been here. They all have. This is not the first of the attempts.

But one, a woman with power thrumming in her atmosphere thicker than water, blasts attackers away with a flick of her wrists. They go down and she fends off the next round, helping endangered teammates to their feet with one hand and blowing a monster to bits with the other.

She is a wonderful cacophony of murderous rage. He took much from her. She thinks she might return the favor.

But one, a man who slips his way through the battlefield and fights like a serpent, collected and brutal, has not been seen for a long while.

He brings curses with him. He brings stories and he brings madness and, most of all, he brings hope.

He brings them together.

They fight with renewed strength and they fight for their lives and the lives of many others.

Half of the universe is a tall order. And the Titan isn't keen on giving them the voice to ask it. He, too, fights with fire in his eyes, sending beasts forth as he watches the serpentine man slip his way across the grass as though gliding above it. Creatures go down. He stays up.

The God of Mischief, Thanos decides then, should have just stayed dead.

Thanos, the God of Mischief decides then, should have just fucked off.

His daughter, a mess more mechanical then organic at this point, slices through monstrous gaping jaws like butter. He does not fret. She was always inferior to her counterpart.

(He forgets that he trained her. He forgets that she knows his weaknesses. He forgets that she is a million the being he will ever be and that will be his downfall.)

Minds work as one as the team whirls together, fighting down masses without a second thought. They are bigger than themselves for a moment and they don't even realize. Ties can't be severed when you work towards a common goal. There is no time for grudges. There is no time for words. There is time only for power, only for emotion, and even then, only rage.

Nebula wrestles her arms around Thanos' neck, pulls a blade, and plunges it straight into his throat. Yanks it through to the left until it rips free from the tissue.

The remaining army stills and the team, fractures and all, still a moment after, confusion marking their faces beneath masks and cowls.

In less than a second, it's over.

There is blood on the earth and it is the most beautiful thing they've ever seen.

Nebula, ethereal and haloed in rich sunlight, stands as is it pools around her feet, the Titan falling with a thud. 

A blade is held loosely in her palm. It is red and double ended.

It belonged to her sister. This is who she fights for.

The few remaining miscellaneous beasts scatter. The snakelike man stands from a kneeling position, brushes black tangles from his long face. Many follow after, the man clad in blue lending a hand to that in red and gold metal, a friend turned foe. There is tension here, temporarily discarded. A woman with greasy red hair wipes blood from her cheek. Arrow are returned to quiver. 

"Have we won?" Blonde hair coils around blue and red shoulder pieces as guards tentatively drop and adrenaline pounds hearts. No one answers. The air is uncertain.

A small yell, then. "The gauntlet," comes the tin voice of Bruce. "Someone has to yield it. We gotta undo what he's done."

Breaths freeze in chests. No one dares step forward. Blood drips down Nebula's blue skin.

A man clad in iron takes a step forward. 

A hand shoots to his shoulder. "Tony," murmurs the fighter. "You don't have to do this."

The armour whirs. "Get off of me, Rogers," he spits, shrugging the hand away. Softer, quieter, "let me go. I have to. I have to."

No one else protests as he moves across the battlefield, silent despite the heavy armour. He kneels before the ruined Titan, blood flowing evenly from his neck where the tissue is cut so deeply it is nearly severed. A small tug and the metal is in his hands, Stones glittering in the sun. The call to him, begging his presence. 

He takes a deep breath. The field holds their own. 

The gauntlet pulls over the repulsor with the sound of metal on metal. Power rips through him and he grits his teeth around an inhuman noise.

Quickly, this must be done quickly, without thought, lest it not be done at all. The stones compel him, pull him to his knees and bring his hand up for it's own snap.

A surge of energy pulses in the air as something rights itself. The gauntlet shifts in the light, form blistering and warping in the sun. The Stones are compliant, and the feeling they radiate is that of peace.

Peace. The man of iron used to thrive in the absence. Now the only thing that resides there is longing.

The energy is different. Indestructive. Pain throbs up his arm as he forces his fingers together and 

snaps.

The field explodes in white and the inhabitants are knocked backwards by the force of the blast. By the time the God of Thunder has risen to his feet, Tony has collapsed, left arm a smoldering mess. The stones thrum in excitement. Their sentience is seen and jotted. 

It's quiet for a moment; friends and acquaintances staggering to their feet and barely breathing.

Then the atmosphere changes. A small wind picks up.

A man in a black, sculpted armour whips up from the ashes in the center of the field. He flexes his hands in awe.

"King T'challa," the cowled woman says.

"Captain," the man returns. "And, Captain." The fighter nods to him.

Around them, more ashes piece together. People form and fall and gather in groups throughout the grass, rejoicing.

"I believe you've done it."

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much FUN writing this I hope yall like it it's Canon in this universe and I love writing little drabbles and stuff !!!! This style is really different then how I normally write and I just want y'all 2 know that that's like. To be expected. I just change styles between fics. Have fun nerds yell at me on Tumblr (marvelkid67 :-)


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